The End Of The Beginning Of The End
by Sir Mustapha
Summary: A new businessman in the town lures Marge into working for him, but things quickly seem to run out of control; and someone has to suffer the consequences. Warning, disturbing story. I mean it.


The End of the Beginning of the End  
  
Written by Fernie Canto  
  
Why it is so hard to understand the mind of a human being, I have no idea. Maybe human beings aren't supposed to understand the minds of other human beings; a natural limitation, or a law of nature, or something. Not that a mind is difficult or intricate, or that you should spend years in a college to learn more about the human brain. It's not that the mind of a human being is complicated: the mind of a human being is simply stupid.  
  
And that's not a generalization. Human beings are stupid by nature. Of course humans can be extremely intelligent, and make superb scientific researches and discoveries. Of course humans can be extremely wise, collecting experience and knowledge through the age. But what I'm talking about is neither knowledge nor wisdom, what I'm talking about is common sense. Some people can just do absolutely ridiculous things without realising what or why they are doing that. This is something we see all the time, and some people try to come up with all sorts of reasons for that - it's the society, or the media, or the technology, or the toxins used in food. But it's not really that. The truth is, people are willing to take the most absurd actions to get what they want.  
  
But then, what does a human being want? To be happy? I don't think so. My best bet is that human beings haven't got a clue of what they want. They just go around, doing stuff. Stupid stuff. Stupid, because they don't think about what's going to happen tomorrow. Oh, no, of course. You can't think about the future. "You must live the present, enjoy the present moment," they say on soft drink commercials. Oh, no, of course you can't think about the past, even though the past holds most answers for your doubts of tomorrow. "What is gone is gone, what is done is done."  
  
Some people want to be different. Some people want recognition. Some people want fun. Some people want everything they know they can't have.  
  
Richard wanted what he wasn't supposed to have.  
  
He had a profitable business. He had a balanced family. He had money and a swimming pool. But he wanted more; yet he didn't really know what he wanted.  
  
Of course, he didn't care about what he already had. He was bored with everything.  
  
Marge wanted a happy life - for herself and for her family.  
  
She didn't have a profitable business. She had a completely unbalanced family. She didn't have that much money and a house that was almost always on the verge of falling apart. But she knew what she wanted. And she didn't care about what she didn't have yet.  
  
But she wanted freedom, even though freedom didn't exist at all.  
  
It wasn't freedom she was seeking at the beauty parlour, definitely not. She didn't really know what she was seeking at that moment. She was entertained listening to the stories of the new "famous" woman of the town, the wife of the successful businessman that had just emerged from that town.  
  
"He's a gentleman," she said with glory. Oh, what a pride it was to be married to the man every woman wished to have.  
  
She said Richard was being successful with his business, even more successful than he expected to be. Not that being owner of a print was an extremely important position, but it seemed enough for him and his family. They had just the kind of life they wanted, tranquil and without worries. But she swore that they were very modest and humble, that having money didn't mean they had to be arrogant and conceited (of course this didn't mean they weren't arrogant and conceited).  
  
And most of all, Richard was the perfect man, as she was constantly on the verge of saying. Not that you should trust a woman when she says a man is "perfect," especially when she's on a beauty parlour.  
  
At a certain point, when the woman was almost ready, the actual Richard entered the place and headed to the women.  
  
"Richard! What brought you here, darling," the woman asked her husband. "I just came back from work early, and decided to come here to pick you up." "Oh, that's so kind of you..."  
  
Maybe he wasn't there to impress the other women, but she was definitely doing her best to prove her new friends what a wonderful husband he was. It's easy to imagine what kind of man Richard was, with his "young-but- mature-looking" youthful face, his beard impeccably shaved everyday, his short hair meticulously combed and clean, and most importantly, the cheesy, fabricated expression of "young entrepreneur" that made almost every woman consider him as the prototype for the handsome man. Maybe he wasn't intentionally fake like that, but he certainly couldn't be trusted as a 'sincere' man in that situation, much like, well, any other businessman.  
  
Richard looked through the women sitting next to his wife, but his eyes stopped at Marge, for some reason.  
  
"Excuse me, Mrs., but have we already met somewhere else?"  
  
Marge looked at the man, puzzled. She thought a little, but that man didn't seem any familiar to her.  
  
"Uhh, no, I guess not." "Hmm... Strange, I have that feeling, somehow. Who knows this doesn't mean something? Like, we were destined to meet each other?"  
  
The horrible insincerity and cheesiness of the man's speech passed right through Marge's mind without staying there. She was still puzzled by his attitude, of saying such things to her without him having ever seen her, and vice-versa.  
  
"Hmmm..." "You know, you really seem somehow interesting to me. You see, I just fired my secretary recently. Yeech, she was an incompetent dimwit. And now I'm looking for a new woman who can fulfil the job. Why don't you go to my office tomorrow so we can have a better talk?"  
  
His talk surprised Marge. Why, did she have something really that special for him to notice? Wasn't he going a bit too fast? Or was he?  
  
"Uh, maybe..." "If you have the time, please, go. I really need a secretary at the moment, and I'd be very happy to have you working with me."  
  
By then, Marge didn't really know whether she should be happy or not. She didn't know that man, what he did and what he wanted with her. She still had to wait a little until she could draw her conclusions. But that didn't stop her from announcing it to her family.  
  
"If you don't decide to quit for a reason or another, it will be good," was Homer's opinion. A very bitter one, that is. "What do you mean?," Marge replied with the same bitterness. "We all know how it ends. You don't last in any job you take for some silly reason or another." "So what? At least, I tried! If I didn't last, there were reasons, and definitely not 'silly' ones. And I'm gonna try again this time and hope for the best." "Alright, then, do hope. Hope a lot."  
  
Not that she was expecting that much support from him in first place, anyway.  
  
"But tell me, mom," Lisa started. "Did he really simply come at you and invited you to work for him? Simple as that?" "Well... yes." "That might be a good sign, mom. Maybe you're more charismatic than you think. He wouldn't have invited you like that for no reason." At least, she was being encouraging. "Hmmm... I hadn't thought about that." "Still you need to be careful. Don't trust too much in people you don't know yet." "But he seems like a good man! At least, that's what his wife was saying." "As if that said a lot," replied Homer, with sarcasm. "Huh?" "Marge, if there's one thing we, men, learn when we get older, is that women always lie." "Homer! What are you talking about?," replied Marge, who didn't seem very happy. "I know what I'm talking about! 'Ooh, my husband is like this, like that, he does this, oh, he's such a wonderful man!' Pfft, it's all nonsense." "He has a point," Lisa completed, "even if he didn't expose it the best way possible." "Okay, okay, I got it! I won't believe he's all that wonderful, if that's what you're saying. But aren't we speculating a bit too much already? I want to wait until tomorrow and see what happens, first."  
  
With that, the discussion more or less finished, and so did the evening. Marge slept that night, anxious about the next day. It was a mix of expectation and hesitation; that feeling everyone knows very well.  
  
And so, that next day came. There was all the morning work, as there has always been, but as soon as the kids were at school, Homer was at work and Maggie was in safe hands (that is, not-so-safe hands, as you prefer, but you probably knew it already), Marge went to the office of the so called Richard.  
  
The building was quite charming. Conventional, but charming, with all the gimmicks to try and make the ambient less formal, but that didn't really work much. She walked to the reception, hesitating a little. That place made her feel rather 'small' and out-of-place. It wasn't as charming as it should be for her. This is a place for important people, she was thinking. Somehow, she felt she absolutely didn't deserve the job Richard was offering her. Still...  
  
"... Excuse me," she said to the receptionist as she glanced at Marge, "I'm Marge Simpson, and..." "Oh, you're Marge Simpson?," quickly replied the receptionist. "Mr. Oakenfold said he was waiting for you. You can head to his office, at the 5th level. I'll tell him you're arriving."  
  
Well, that's efficiency, I guess... At the lack of any other things to say or think about, Marge just thanked the receptionist and walked to the lift, quickly jumping in as it almost closed. There wasn't really anything to think about, at that time. So she tried to concentrate on the Muzak playing inside the lift, that Marge recognised as something dating back from the early seventies... creepy music for a place like this. It was obvious the situation was strange; the whole thing with Richard. She wasn't comfortable enough to be proud of herself. Thing is, if she was able to gain his trust so easily, it should be reason of pride for her. But maybe things weren't really as they seemed. Who knows if things were way too good to be true, as she initially feared, and there was something else in "Mr Oakenfold"'s plans...  
  
The lift stopped at the 5th level, and Marge stepped out as the doors opened. Finding Richard's office was no trouble. Behind a door, a secretary sat behind a computer, working calmly.  
  
"Excuse me...?," Marge said as she slowly walked in. "Oh, you're Mrs. Simpson? Come in, Mr Oakenfold is waiting for you."  
  
Marge stepped in, carefully looking around the room, that just looked way too cute and informal to be true. It almost looked like a trap of some sort, or maybe she was just a bit too paranoid already. She walked through the door into Richard's proper office, and stopped by the doorframe, somehow waiting for his answer. He was doing something at the computer (playing Klondike, most probably). The room was somehow scary. It wasn't that "happy" place anymore. It was all formal, professional, organized and clean to the extreme. The walls had a bluish grey colour, that gave the room a very 'serious' atmosphere.  
  
Richard looked at Marge, at last.  
  
"Hello, Marge. I've been expecting your arrival. Please, sit down."  
  
Marge slowly walked to the chair in front of his desk, wondering if that wasn't just too "good" for a person like herself. That couldn't be true, that seemed just wrong. She sat down, and looked at him. He looked directly into her eyes, piercing through all her defences with the cold-hearted rich businessman look he had behind his youthful face.  
  
"I'm pleased that you came here to talk to me. Like I told you, I think you're just perfect to be my personal secretary." "Hmm... But there isn't one, there, already... at the other room..." "Oh, no, no, no. She works somewhere else, she's just here temporarily. Besides, I needed someone who I could really trust. You know, my personal secretary will be dealing with extremely important business, and I can't give that job away to anyone." "I see... so, why did you choose me like... that?," she asked, recalling the way he spoke to her the previous day. "It's just meant to be," he replied, trying to sound almost prophetical. "When you look at a person and simply know she's the right one, there's nothing that can convince you wrong. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about." "Well... maybe," she said, more or less knowing what he was talking about but failing to believe it. "Okay, so let's get down to what really matters. If you accept to work to me, we shall start tomorrow right away. The place is pleasant, as you can see, and the pay should satisfy you. If it doesn't, I won't hesitate in raising it a notch."  
  
Marge's brain was racing, going "Accept it! Accept it! Accept it!" like mad. But some part of Marge just said "please, be careful." But then, there was her thirst for freedom; any kind of freedom. That job would hit it right on the spot! It was just what she needed. She couldn't throw such an opportunity away, now could she?  
  
But that man... behind his desk, with his black computer and all his polished objects and his confident face... his eyes so penetrating and his teeth so clean, almost ready to attack his opponents like a dog... it just, somehow, frightened Marge. She wasn't used to that place. She looked to the right, trying to avoid eye contact with him, and finally took her decision.  
  
"Well... I accept. I want to work with you." "Excellent!"  
  
So, that's it?  
  
Richard took her for a walk around the building to see the different sectors and meet her colleagues. The place surely felt good, and the people seemed kind and friendly. And now, she was just a part of it. It was hard to believe, but she was. Then, he took her to know her workplace, what she would do, how she would do it all, and everything else. She was feeling quite confident with it, even though she would have to learn to use the computer, and pretty fast. "Don't be terrified," he said. "I'll help you out if you have problems. Don't hesitate in calling me whenever you need."  
  
If things were that simple, then it seems it was all right. But it wasn't. Better, it couldn't be. That thought kept hammering on Marge's brain for the rest of the day. Not even her daughter's compliment could make her feel better:  
  
"Wow, mom! That's great news." "Yes, Lisa... it is," Marge replied, almost wanting to say the opposite. "So, is the man really all that nice? Is he really trustworthy?" "Well, I can say... he does seem like a good man, and he was really interested in hiring me." "Oh, mom, I hope everything goes fine for you there."  
  
Lisa probably wasn't hoping more than Marge herself. After all, the girl didn't have any idea of what was going on inside Marge's mind; if she had, she would also be uneasy.  
  
And then, eventually, Marge's first day of work arrived. Richard was being quite kind and friendly, helping her around with the things she had to do. The day was pleasant, and Marge actually felt confident about her new occupation. It was going right so far. But then, it was just her first day of work. What should she expect, anyway? One day is hardly enough to draw conclusions.  
  
Through the next few days, Marge was getting much more acclimated with the place. She was meeting the other workers from the different areas, mostly the people in charge of the creative sectors of the print. They explained Marge how the place worked, more or less. Also, they gave her a few hints about how Richard acted, and how he was, in general. The opinions weren't the most favourable ever, but it was fine for Marge. Nobody is perfect, especially businessmen.  
  
Richard took her to meet the really noisy place of the building, the place that made the entire business work. Marge observed the people working silently and diligently, and those enormous machines working at full throttle, spitting out the printed publications at ridiculously fast rates... It was all so brutal and 'big,' Marge could only watch, without saying a word.  
  
"Isn't it just wonderful, Marge?"  
  
She discreetly glanced at him, and saw a big smile at his face; a rather greedy smile. He contemplated that work, those machines, those men with a wicked satisfaction - probably thinking everything here belongs to me, and me alone with the coldness that only businessmen like him could have.  
  
"This place also wages the training of young, aspiring men that might work here later on, or maybe work somewhere else. That is, we're not only keeping our personnel well trained, but we're giving the teenagers a future."  
  
Not that this phrase sounded really genuine and sincere. It sounded like he was speaking to an interviewer or something, to sound like a "hero of the nation," or something among those lines. This somehow bothered Marge, but she was learning to cope with it. He was just being friendly.  
  
But she noticed that he was getting a bit, well, maybe too "friendly" with her. He seemed, almost too blatantly, to come down from his position of "boss" and try to be something more to her. Not that this was all bad, but it was beginning to feel unpleasant. She wasn't feeling very comfortable around him.  
  
And that day, Marge arrived at home to do all the housework she still had to do. Lisa came near her to talk.  
  
"How's it going on there, mom?" "Fine, quite fine," she responded. She sounded rather confident, but not much. "That is good to hear," she answered, not with the most enthusiastic tone Marge had ever heard from Lisa, but still sincere. "I'm getting to meet the other people that work with me. They are very nice people. That is really a very interesting place." "Good. Okay, then, that's good to hear."  
  
Lisa walked away, silently, and climbed up the stairs. Marge observed her, and wondered a little. Soon afterwards, she went to sleep and woke up ready for work. She noticed that, indeed, Richard was trying harder to get closer to her, on a personal level. She still wasn't feeling very much secure, but maybe there wasn't much reason to worry. He was a pleasant man, and he was being fairly nice to her. He was a much better man than she initially imagined. There was no reason to be afraid.  
  
But that night, Lisa told Marge about some terrible headaches she was having at school by afternoon.  
  
"It was horrible, I thought I was going to pass out." "Really? Oh, Lisa, aren't you trying a bit too hard lately?" "I don't think so! I just don't know. It's strange, it wasn't just a headache for tiredness, I don't know..."  
  
Some seconds of silence passed, as if Lisa was trying to say something, but it didn't come out.  
  
"I was kinda worried about you, mom."  
  
These words hit Marge on surprise. Suddenly, all the worry came back, the worry she had before she started working. For some reason, it all came back to her, and even worse: it wasn't her feeling of worry, it was Lisa's feeling of worry - her own daughter's feelings. Why? Why, suddenly, Lisa was feeling worried about her mother?  
  
Probably it was just a temporary thing. After all, it was only natural that Lisa would feel a bit uneasy about her mom working as a secretary of an unknown businessman so suddenly. But then, all of Marge's thoughts seemed to contradict themselves. It was like Marge was trying to convince herself of something that she knew it wasn't true. Or something. She was trying to pretend there was no risk. And then, Marge didn't know anymore if it was a good idea accepting that job, in first place. Maybe she should have refused it. Yes. She didn't need the job, she just wanted to try it. And now that she tried it, it probably was the adequate time to call it a day.  
  
Marge went to sleep, but she wasn't feeling comfortable. What were those headaches her daughter had been complaining of, anyway? Of course it could be just another temporary illness, but... it could not be. What was it? Unconsciously, Marge was just thinking these two things were related somehow. Lisa was worried about Marge, and she was having terrible headaches. It made sense. Or it didn't made sense at all, maybe. Why, of course it didn't make sense! Then, the next day, Lisa would be having premonitions! Or her bed would start shaking at any time... It was just a silly idea.  
  
But then, it wasn't. And somehow, with all these thoughts in her brain, Marge became tired of it all and faded into a sleep.  
  
Next day, Marge spent the entire morning wondering about what to do. As she stepped into her office, she was decided to face Richard and tell it all to him...  
  
... But as her eyes hit him, she just wasn't anymore. And in the end, she just went back to her work as if nothing had happened at all.  
  
Marge didn't know what exactly was happening with her. She wasn't taking the actions she wanted to, as if all her courage and reason dissolved into hot water as soon as Richard was in front of her. Marge knew that she shouldn't behave that way, but it didn't matter. It was like Marge wasn't listening to her own conscience, to the part of her mind and heart that was aware that she was doing something wrong. Was it all influence of Richard?  
  
But in the end, it really didn't matter. Richard was getting closer to her every day, and she didn't feel the imminent "danger" of it all. It was dangerous somehow, but she didn't know why it was dangerous. But it was. Richard wasn't treating her just like a secretary anymore, he was dangerously close to her. And Marge thought it all was natural. After all, Richard was a nice man. What could be wrong in that?  
  
He could have second intentions... but then again, probably not. There was no reason.  
  
A few minutes before Marge left, Richard called her into his office. He spoke as he packed his things to leave.  
  
"Yes?," Marge said, meekly. He took a while to respond, but he knew she was there. At last, he faced her. "Oh, yes, Marge. I just wanted to tell you, I'll be going to a business dinner tonight. You know, meeting other people, restaurants, business talk, all that ceremony. And I really needed you to go with me." "Hmm... Going with you?... I guess so," she responded, partially aware that she wasn't speaking for her true self. "If there are any problems with that, you don't have to. But... well, I really wanted you to come with me. You know, we, at moments like these, must show our success to the other people. I know this sounds silly, but... well, you know what I'm talking about." "I sure am, Mr Oakenfold. I think there will be no problem, really." "Oh, great! I shall pick you up at your house at 8:30, then. Is that alright?" "Sure," she responded after thinking a bit. "Thank you, Marge," he said as he approached her, in a warm tone. "I'm getting more and more convinced that I've done a great move when I chose you to work with me."  
  
This kind of talk is what made Marge nervous when he wasn't near her. She couldn't trust that man, no matter what. When he was away from her, her conscience came at full force, screaming at her that she was in danger. And she knew that she was in danger. But she had no reaction when she was with him, and she was unable to find out why.  
  
Homer wasn't all satisfied to know that Marge was leaving like that, so suddenly, for a "business dinner" with her boss.  
  
"It's nothing much, Homie! It's just people talking about business, companies, that kind of stuff. There won't be anything more than that," she said as she set herself up, trying to look formal. "I just don't like the idea, Marge. Today it's a business dinner, tomorrow, what's it gonna be?," he said, showing not suspicion, but apprehension. Marge frowned her face.  
  
"Homer, please!" "Marge, I'm just worried about this..."  
  
Still, there was no return. Richard was there to pick her up right on time, and took her to the restaurant. Homer and the children stayed at home.  
  
Richard and Marge arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, after a ride in his luxurious car, with all kinds of comforts that only made Marge feel uncomfortable instead, with that weird situation going on. The restaurant itself was the same kind of lifeless, inorganic place that are there just to receive people like Richard. There were some people waiting for him on a table, most of them older people, looking successful and professional. That is, dull.  
  
All in all, the dinner was just as boring as Marge expected; nothing interesting for her, really. She noticed that Richard talked about her with pride, as something that everybody should admire. That didn't sound right, but his words (even if they weren't really very true) made part of her feel quite proud of herself. What were his intentions with that, she didn't know. But the truth is, he was succeeding at what he wanted to do. And she noticed that, in that place, Richard was distant of her, sounding like he really treated her as a mere secretary, not as a friend, as he wanted her to be. Somehow, he spoke about her like she was an object, a possession of his. This made the other part of Marge feel extremely apprehensive.  
  
After the end of the dinner, when taking her back home, Richard began to talk.  
  
"I was really happy with the way things went tonight. I feel your presence was essential there," he said with his greedy satisfaction again. "Oh, well... wow, but... I didn't even do anything!" "But you don't need to! That people just believe in anything I say. Everything happened just the way I had planned," he said as he impersonated the "cold businessman" from the dinner again. "Well, that's... good to hear." "Marge... I'm just impressed with you, with your work. You're just the right one for that job, Marge, you're something extremely precious for me, now."  
  
There, the talk had just started again. She looked at him, involuntarily letting her defences down.  
  
"I feel that, whew, you're just going too well. I wanted to have you, if you understand me, more than just a secretary... as a friend, maybe, so that we can get much more from each other."  
  
Oh, great, look at that.  
  
"I hope I'm not going too fast, but... I'm completely sure of my actions."  
  
Well, guess what, of course Richard was going not only too fast, but too far. Not that those were Marge's thoughts, these are my thoughts, and they might be the thoughts of whomever might be reading this now. Not that I want to influence anyone, but the thing is so obvious... but not in Marge's mind. More than ever, she was just thinking it was all just wonderful.  
  
"Well, sure! Why... why not?"  
  
Of course, because for Marge, Richard was already "more than just a boss." For her, that was all going to be just great. She wasn't feeling extremely safe with those thoughts, but that was just what was happening inside her mind.  
  
Meanwhile, Lisa was lying in her bed, in pain.  
  
As Marge arrived home, she went up the stairs and spotted Lisa in her bed, with Homer sitting by her side. Marge entered the room, and looked down at Lisa: she was facing away from her. Homer saw Marge, and got up.  
  
"Marge! You're back," he said, sounding obviously worried. "Hi, Homie. Did anything happen to Lisa?" "Lisa, well... she said she wasn't feeling good, and could hardly stand on her feet. I brought her here, then." "Is she sleeping?" "No, she's awake."  
  
Marge walked around the bed and knelt down next to Lisa.  
  
"Lisa?"  
  
She opened her eyes, slowly.  
  
"Mom... glad you're here," she responded weakly. "What happened, honey? Tell me," she said, trying to sound comforting. "I... I just felt a lot of pain, suddenly, don't know... don't know why..." "Are you ok now?" "Kind of... I'm better."  
  
Lisa felt, somehow, that Marge wasn't there. She was absent, distant... That wasn't the caring Marge, the one woman that made Lisa feel safe from everything. That was just Marge, with her mind somewhere else. Those things made Lisa feel even more disturbed and insecure, but Marge was feeling more or less the same.  
  
Now what? Marge couldn't sleep. What was happening? She was feeling lost, confused. At times like those, late at night, in her bed, Marge felt small, helpless, as if everything was slipping out of her control, even herself. She wasn't able to take the actions she wanted to take anymore, for some reason. Just what IS happening? It was all she wanted to know.  
  
Near Richard, she wasn't herself anymore. Everything was just all right when he was with her. So much that he actually got to invite her to a dinner, but not a "business dinner" anymore.  
  
"Marge! What, what are you doing?," Homer asked, unable to conform to that. "Homer, will you stop being like that?," Marge asked back, genuinely annoyed. "Being like what? What am I being like?," Homer replied, successfully achieving 3 questions in a row. That's only natural, knowing that both of them were insecure. Marge sighed: "Homer, you're being... Homer, you..." Marge knew Homer had all the reasons to be acting like that. She was in serious disadvantage. "Remember what I said before you left for that 'business dinner' of yours?," Homer challenged her. "I said that in a little while, it would me more than just business dinner. And that's just what is happening." "Homer, please, stop being so childish. You know I'm not doing anything wrong, for Chrissake." "I'm not saying this, Marge," he said in a worried tone, not annoyed like before. "Can't you see I worry about you, about what happens to you? Lisa's been having hard times, you've been going around with Richard like that in so little time... I do not feel right, Marge."  
  
Marge looked at him, and felt he was vulnerable now.  
  
"Homer... Please, you need to trust me. You don't need to worry about anything, okay? I can take care of myself."  
  
He looked outside the window, walked away and looked at her, noticing that she wasn't dressed 'formally' anymore, instead, she was dressed like she would be dressed in an... intimate dinner, or maybe something more than that.  
  
But he didn't have control anymore. Marge went to the dinner, leaving her family alone at the house for the night, with pea soup.  
  
"Wow, mom has been having a couple of business party these days, hm?," Bart speculated, only for Homer's frustration. "Quiet, boy. Have your soup."  
  
At the restaurant where Marge and Richard were dining, the same chatter was going on. But it was obvious that Richard was going ever further into it, and Marge wasn't aware of it all. It was coming close to a dangerous state, where Marge was a step away from being in love with him. But I'll get there, Richard thought. Just a little bit more of talk and flattery.  
  
And the dinner in the Simpsons' house was proceeding silently.  
  
"Lisa? You ok?" Homer noticed she was almost forcing the soup down her throat. She didn't look well. "I don't know... I'm feeling kind of..." "Is it the same thing from yesterday?..." "I... I don't..."  
  
Lisa felt almost like there was an earthquake inside her stomach, inside her mind, twisting all her senses.  
  
"Lisa? Lisa, what's happening? Lisa, look at me, please!"  
  
Lisa did so. And a strong jet of pea soup came from inside her throat and hit right on Homer's face.  
  
"Yaargh!," he shouted as his head quickly reeled back, in fright. He quickly wiped his face clean from the hot, green liquid in his face. He rose from his chair, suddenly worried that Lisa could be feeling bad again. As he opened his eyes and looked at Lisa's chair, he saw she wasn't there anymore. She was collapsed at the floor, shaking.  
  
Homer quickly wiped his face again and knelt by Lisa's side, in panic. He picked her up in his arms, hoping that she was still conscious. She opened her eyes, twisting her face in pain. It wasn't exactly pain, it was a horrible feeling, like someone had just taken something away from inside her, ripping her flesh apart and corrupting her deepest perceptions. She didn't know exactly how she was feeling, what had happened, but she knew something was wrong.  
  
"Lisa! Are you alright?"  
  
She didn't know whether to respond 'yes' or 'no', in fact, she didn't know whether she should respond at all. She could see Homer's despair clearly on his face, but she could just feel the desperation inside her as well.  
  
Marge came back from the restaurant, confused. One side of her was jumping with joy, because of the wonderful night it had been, but the other side was sure that she shouldn't be joyful, not at all. She was now aware of what she had just done, and it wasn't good. In fact, she still couldn't believe she had just done that. Would she have the courage to face Homer that night?  
  
As she entered the house and climbed up the staircase, she suddenly knew it would be even harder to face Homer and her family than she thought. She passed by Lisa's room and looked in, and saw the same scene as the other night; Homer was sitting by Lisa, looking even more worried this time.  
  
"Homer?" "Marge!," he responded, quietly but urgently. He approached her, seeing she wasn't feeling good. "Homie, is there... something wrong with Lisa, again?" "I... Yes, but... I don't know what it is, really." "Is she awake?" "No... She's sleeping."  
  
Marge left out a sigh, a frustrated sigh.  
  
"I don't know what's happening with her, Marge. We should take her to see the doctor! That's not normal."  
  
So, there was no other option. Next day, they went to see Dr Hibbert and ask for a rational answer. He spent some time examining her, and seemed intrigued.  
  
"What do you feel, Lisa?" "Right now? Well, nothing." "What happened to you last night?" "I... I don't know for sure. I started to feel... pain, a horrible feeling. I vomited all the pea soup, and then... I can't remember exactly what was it, but it was horrible."  
  
The doctor thought for a minute, examined her a bit more, and turned to her parents.  
  
"And so? What's with her, doctor?," asked Marge. "Hm, well, all I can say is... I couldn't see anything wrong with her." "What?" "Well, that's really it. I can't give you answers because I haven't seen anything unusual. We needed you to bring her here if she has any of these crises again, that's the only way we can know."  
  
So, the two were there, clueless. No answers, no explanation, nothing - just a lot of confusion, and Lisa, afraid of herself.  
  
Marge's frustration was extremely clear on her next day of work. She was seriously considering giving it all up, but she just couldn't. Richard began talking to her, asking what was wrong.  
  
"I'm just puzzled, you know, with my family. My daughter has been passing through horrible crises recently, I just don't know what to do," she said, a bit too openly to Richard. "Marge, that's just... a pity, a real pity. It's a shame that such a wonderful woman like you has been having so many problems like these. You're tired, you're worried, you just cannot lead a normal life that way. You need to free yourself more!" "Do you mean, forget about my daughter, that's what you mean?," she said, in a rather upset tone. "No, no, absolutely not! But you must get yourself away from all these problems more often. You need... fun, you need to give yourself some time to catch your breath, to forget about everything for at least a little while. You need company, Marge. Someone you can really trust," he said as he almost pointed at himself. "Well... maybe," said Marge, unaware of what he was talking about. "Come to my apartment tomorrow, let's spend some time together. That's what... that's what I'm here for, you know."  
  
And Lisa, at school, began to have those headaches again.  
  
By the evening, Marge was wondering what to do. She wanted to go there, but she was afraid that Homer wouldn't accept it. Maybe she could say she would have an appointment? In a Saturday afternoon?  
  
Anyway, Marge just said she had "things to do." Of course Homer didn't like the idea. "What things, Marge? Why are you behaving like that, these days?" "Homer, please! It has nothing to do with what you're thinking about." "Marge, please! Really! Don't you think about Lisa? Can't you see she's not alright? She needs out assistance, she needs you, Marge! Please... It's not for me, it's for our daughter!"  
  
Marge sighed, annoyed, and Homer frowned his face.  
  
"I'll see what I can do about that, Homie, I will. But I have my things to do now, okay?" "Marge, please, don't go!," he begged. Marge looked at him, irritated, and walked away.  
  
Homer observed her, and seriously felt he was losing control. Marge was definitely running away from her family, which wasn't right. Still, there was a conflict inside Marge whether she was doing the right thing or not, but it was so deep within her, so quiet, it wasn't enough to really bother her.  
  
Richard was waiting for her.  
  
Lisa was lying in her bed, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to calm herself down, forget about what was happening to her. Last night, she had no crisis. Good. Maybe it was over. But what was it? She was too afraid to try to think about it: afraid of her own body.  
  
Was there anyone, anything behind it all?  
  
Marge knocked on he door of Richard's apartment. He opened the door, and received her with a smile.  
  
Lisa's hands started to itch, and suddenly she began coughing. Violently. The horrible feeling of emptiness slowly began to rise inside her. She was feeling hot. Hot and dry. She stood up and went into the bathroom, supporting herself on the sink, breathing heavily as her lips started to ache, as if they were being slowly torn apart. She opened the faucet and quickly wet her face, still trying to breathe. Suddenly, it felt like her mind began to distort, and the inside of her body was melting. She closed the faucet, and tried to go to the bathtub, but she collapsed to the ground, as she felt pain all over her skin. She suddenly couldn't think, as she felt her own sense of identity, of innocence, being taken away. She was still coughing, and she felt like her belly was burning inside, while her fingertips began to bleed. She tried to scream, but her throat was blocked. She almost couldn't breathe. She felt there was something inside her trying to get out, at the same time it felt like something was trying to break inside her, into her body, into her soul. It was like she was losing her own self, anything that belonged to her - as if everything inside her was being torn apart. She climbed on the bathtub, still feeling like something was about to come out of her throat. Blood. She watched, in terror, as she vomited blood into the bathtub, and suddenly, she was unconscious.  
  
Somehow, she felt the comfort of a bed below her. She was waking up. Good. But those horrible memories were still in her. It was a nightmare, I was only sleeping.  
  
But if it was just a nightmare, then she wouldn't be sleeping in a hospital bed.  
  
She looked around, and suddenly she felt all her strength, all her confidence in herself, being drained away. It hadn't been a nightmare. What happened was real. And there was terror again - until she watched Marge enter the room, trying to hide her panic. She felt like crying.  
  
"Lisa...! What happened, darling?," she said in obvious despair. "Mom, I..."  
  
Lisa had nothing to say. What could she say at that moment?  
  
And what Marge could say? There was nothing to say.  
  
"Be calm, Lisa. You're alright."  
  
Lisa quietly wept, aware of her helplessness, of her pitiful self. Marge gently stroked Lisa's hair, knowing she had no right to touch her daughter. She had just betrayed her family. She was, in fact, ashamed of being there. Lisa didn't know what had just happened. Homer was angry. And he should be.  
  
Marge knew that was not right. She was wrong since the beginning. She should have heard the other workers, when they said she shouldn't trust Richard. It was because of her that Lisa was having those crises. And at that time, Marge was trying to forgive herself, to be part of that family, once again. And Lisa could feel it; she could feel Marge struggling to be there, present again.  
  
Eventually, Marge saw there was nothing she could do but to see Reverend Lovejoy.  
  
"Marge!," she greeted her as she entered. "I'm glad to see you." "Hi, Reverend," she sighed. "So, what brings you here?"  
  
She sighed, aware of how abominable what she was going to tell him was.  
  
"Reverend, I... I did something horrible," she sighed, shaking her head. "Hmm... Care to tell?" "Well... I've been working to a man, as his secretary. His name is Richard Oakenfold." "Hmm," he said, frowning his face, probably knowing what was wrong. He probably knew about that man already. "I... He seemed gentle and kind, really, and... he somehow... convinced me, and... I went to his apartment yesterday, and... you know..."  
  
Somehow not completely surprised, he began to speak.  
  
"Marge, what a tragedy." "I'm... I'm so ashamed of myself." "I've heard about this Oakenfold guy already, and they were not good things, what I heard." "What do you mean?" "Well, everyone says he's got strange behaviour, and everything. Not many details, but enough to make me suspect him." "Oh, well... What really makes me terrorised, though, is that... Lisa, she's been... having terrible crises lately, and... it happened just when I was away with Richard. Yesterday, she almost died!"  
  
The Reverend suddenly felt the danger, and sighed in worry.  
  
"God... That mostly confirms what I had just heard. Marge, he probably used some... ugly help to convince you. People say that he had made pacts with the Devil, but they just sounded like rumours. But now, I have enough reasons to think they are not rumours." "Jesus, I... That's more or less what I thought," she said, even more terrorised. "That's the only thing that explains your daughter's crises. It seems that, since she's the closest one to you in your family, she's suffering the, uh, 'side effects' of your, or Richard's, actions. While you think everything's just great, all the negative effects are being reflected on Lisa."  
  
Marge buried her face in her hands. What have I done to my daughter?, was the thought that haunted her.  
  
"I know how you feel, Marge. But it wasn't completely your fault. You weren't aware of it. It's a shame, but you still can work most things out. God will forgive you."  
  
Yes, God will forgive me. But will Lisa?  
  
Lisa didn't present anything unusual to the doctors. She was perfectly fine. Of course, she was still traumatised because of what had happened, but there was nothing much to do. Marge knew it was all her fault, so she just took Lisa back home. Inside her mind, she was still condemning herself, and she knew there was no way to stop it. It was all her fault.  
  
At night, Marge explained she was going to quit the job. Of course, without revealing the real reasons, but she said she was going to quit, for Homer's relief. As they went to sleep, Marge went to Lisa's room to see how she was.  
  
"I'm ok, mom." "Are you sure?" "Yes... I think." "Oh, honey," she said, holding her hand. "It won't happen anymore, darling. It's all over."  
  
Marge sounded confident. Confident enough to make Lisa feel quite safe.  
  
"I've been having bad dreams... bad dreams about you, mom."  
  
The woman, once again, felt pathetic.  
  
"Be careful..."  
  
Be careful... What does that mean, now? Marge didn't want to think about it... but Lisa had an ominous tone in her voice.  
  
Marge was having trouble to sleep. Late at night, she woke up. It was 4 AM. She was extremely uneasy, now. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold it for too long. She sat up, and glanced at Homer. He was absolutely silent.  
  
She patted on his shoulder, quietly calling his name. He didn't answer. He didn't move. In fact, he wasn't even breathing. She pushed him, turning upside down, only to see that his body was completely slashed and cut.  
  
She belted out a scream, and jumped from the bed, looking at that scene, in absolute terror. Without thinking, she left the room, supporting herself at the wall and breathing heavily, almost crying. She looked at the door to Bart's room, and walked in. Bart was lying away from him, and Marge knew that he could be dead, too. And he was. As she turned him to face her, she saw that his face was transformed into a red goo.  
  
Marge ran out of the room, crying in despair... Lisa... She entered Lisa's room, sobbing violently. She saw Lisa, lying peacefully on her bed. Should I check her? She knew she was dead, but she was too curious. She slowly approached her, and looked at her. She was absolutely normal. Dead. There was nothing wrong with her. Marge cried, and that's when she was something at the corner of the room, something glittering - a pair of eyeballs.  
  
All of a sudden, Marge felt all of her energies evaporating, as she realised there was nothing left for her, that she had nothing... nothing but fear. That night was only giving her more and more horrible surprises, and she felt completely helpless, unable to change the situation. And what was worse, it was all her fault. She left that happen, she caused it all. She stumbled across the corridor and stopped by Maggie's room. She slowly walked in, and looked at the crib... There was Maggie, completely motionless. She just didn't have the courage to go there. No, absolutely not. Marge ran outside the house, and looked around. She saw the Flanderses' house, and ran to their front door. She banged on the door, screaming for help.  
  
There was no response. No matter how she tried, they just wouldn't respond.  
  
In terror, she ran around the streets, looking for help. She saw a taxi cab parked on a corner, and rushed to it and cried for help to the driver. Only to find out he was dead.  
  
Suddenly, Marge began to think that the entire situation was just pathetic, ridiculous. But that didn't help. Her family was what mattered, even if the entire town was, indeed, dead. And she knew who was the only one she could look for.  
  
In a matter of minutes, she reached Richard's building and burst into it, somehow. She went up to his apartment and entered, furiously looking for him. And he was there, peacefully waiting for her.  
  
"Oh, Marge! It's nice to see you here," he said with a venomous smile. "You killed my family! You bastard, what do you think you're doing?," she shouted at him, pointing his finger right at his face. "Relax, my love. Everything is just fine." "How dare you say that?," she shouted as she approached him, almost ready to hit him. "Marge, please... sometimes, we must take drastic actions to achieve our goals. We, businessmen, do it all the time." "And your goal is, to have sex with me? And you kill my family because of that?," she said, in the verge of losing the remains of her sanity completely. "Please, Marge... stop thinking about your family. You know how much trouble they bring to you. You only have problems with them!" "But you don't have the right to take them away from me!" "My love, please... You're saying that now, we'll see about that in a few hours. After all, there's nobody here to help you! We're alone in this town!"  
  
Marge was left with no response, just wondering the absurdity of it all.  
  
"And you're all mine. And there's nothing here to stop me!"  
  
And that's when they heard someone soundly cleaning his throat behind Richard. He turned around, to face the person.  
  
"Actually, Mr Oakenfold, there is someone here to stop you."  
  
The man approached Richard with an evil smile on his face. Marge watched the scene, still wondering what the hell was happening, with "hell" having more meaning than usual. She watched as the old man slowly walked towards Richard, with his serious, truly threatening face, and the heavy aura of death and evil surrounding him. Marge felt a glimpse of excitement inside herself, as she clearly knew who the man was.  
  
"You... what do you think you're doing?" "If you're well reminded, Mr-Rich-Businessman, because of the little 'pact' we have, your soul belongs to me. And I am here to claim it."  
  
The man spoke calmly, with a subtle evilness in his voice that made him even more frightening. Richard looked at him in panic, shook his head and reeled back.  
  
"No! You can't do this!"  
  
The man shrugged, chuckled a little and replied: "Why not?"  
  
"But... you said I was going to have Marge! You can't do it!" "You already have Marge! What are you complaining of? You wanted Marge, and you just have Marge. Now, I'm here to take your soul and close our pact. That is the pact we have made, after all. It's completely fair, if you think about it." "No... no... no, it's not!"  
  
The man chuckled and shook his head.  
  
"You 'businessmen' are all so silly... you think you must always win, think you're all witty and can achieve success too easily. You're all the same; easy prey. You really think you, humans, are superior to 'the Prince of Darkness,' as you call me yourselves?"  
  
Marge watched as Richard, the man who caused her so much pain, was facing his ugly fate, and as the old man had him on his very hand, and even felt an urge to smile. But then, there was a man about to lose his soul right in front of her. That wasn't a good moment to smile.  
  
"Sorry, Mr Oakenfold, but the game is over. Next time, you'll know you shouldn't trust everyone. If there is going to be a next time, that is."  
  
Richard tried to run away, but he was completely frozen in fear. The evil man held him by his neck, and stared deeply, coldly into his eyes. Richard gasped in terror as his body shook and seemed to dissolve, and finally collapsed to the ground, completely devoid of life. The old man looked at him and left out a smile, chuckling, as if he had just conquered another little, insignificant victory. It was way too easy to be Satan.  
  
"There you have it, young lady," he said to Marge. "Next time, remember what just happened to you before you fall prey to another idiot. And pray to your God so that this won't happen again... or that I don't go pay a little 'visit' to your daughter." Marge was shaking, somewhat in awe for hearing from Satan himself, and absolutely scared to death. The man walked out the door, into another world, or something. All she knew, then, was that Richard was gone. For ever.  
  
She walked out of the building and into the streets, and the nightlife of Springfield went on, like absolutely nothing had happened. She walked home, and quietly entered the dark house. As she looked up the staircase, she was Lisa coming down.  
  
"Mom?," she said weakly. "Lisa," Marge sighed, in subtle relief. "What happened? Where were you?" "Oh, Lisa, nothing happened," she said, as she knelt next to the girl and stroked her hair. "Are you okay?" "Yes... Yes, I am. Why?" "Nothing... nothing... go back to sleep."  
  
Suddenly, everything seemed to return to normal, to go back into its place. Marge's life went on as if nothing had happened. Richard, on the other hand, wouldn't have an easy time.  
  
It sounded fair. Marge just went on to live her own life. And Richard just suffered the consequences of his own actions. He wanted what he couldn't have. He wanted Marge. And he knew he couldn't have Marge, and he didn't even need Marge. He just didn't know what he needed. He wanted to satisfy his most basic needs, and didn't realize there were many things that were more important than that. Worse, he didn't realise there were many easier ways to do that. No, he just chose the worst one instead. Why did it have to be Marge? He suddenly thought that he had the right to take her away from her own life, from her own family, to belong to him. No matter what, she had to be his. When he had a beautiful wife right next to him. Maybe he was bored of her. Sure, bored of a wife he had for just 2 years, while many people aren't bored of who is living with them for over 40 years.  
  
Why does it happen like this? What do people want, anyway? Happiness? Maybe people haven't realised yet what happiness is all about.  
  
People are just stupid. And meanwhile, somewhere else, the Devil makes a new prey. 


End file.
